In the Silence of the Kitchen
by Kienova
Summary: "And if I didn't accept that, I wouldn't deserve to live," came the weak and broken answer. "What if I don't accept it?"
"Would you like me to have a look at that?" Doctor Turner's voice from the doorway startled Sister Bernadette slightly, drawing her attention up from where she had been watching the water pour over her hand. She drew herself away from the sink slightly, trying to calm the racing of her heart.

"Yes," she replied, holding her hand out for him to expect. Capturing it with his own fingers he lifted her palm higher, skimming his eyes over the graze, checking for gravel that could have gotten into the abrasion. She could hear her blood pounding in her ears, louder and louder with every passing second that he was touching her, his fingers delicate as they brushed against where her palm connected to her wrist. She couldn't bear to look at him, afraid that he would see the emotions she was so desperately trying to hide. Within a breath she felt him tugging her hand higher again, this time his face moving closer and closer to her palm until she felt the soft pressure of his lips against her skin, his eyes closed as he revelled in the sensation.

She jerked her hand back after a split second, eyes wild as she turned away from him, her breath caught in her throat.

"I'm sorry. That was unforgivable," he rushed, voice thick.

"Who is it who decides what is forgivable and unforgivable?" she responded, voice edged with harshness as she tripped slightly over her words, feeling as if she couldn't get enough air in her lungs, her vision spotty as she tried to clear her head, to deal with the reality of what was occurring rather than the feelings that had bloomed from small shoots to a vast garden from his lips pressed to the delicate pads of her fingers, slightly callused from work but still soft.

"I think you know that better than I do," he said, the pain in his response so evident that she wanted to scream, to run from the room, to pretend that none of this had ever happened. To pretend that they had never started becoming more open and friendly with one another those months ago during an intense birth filled with panic and longs periods of waiting. That they had never furthered their conversations during almost every meeting after that. That she had never shared his cigarette outside of the Carter house, her cheek still stinging slightly from where she had been struck. That she had never become close enough to care for his son, the boy who had been so forlorn thinking he would be excluded from the three-legged race that landed her here, standing in the kitchen, a dull ache in her palm and a gaping chasm in her chest. She wanted things to go back to the way they were a year ago, or even a day ago. Before she knew what it felt like to be on this end of his affections. To go back to thinking he did not see her as a woman, but rather as a nun and nurse. Now... now she knew all too well that his affection slid from partners in the care of the population of Poplar to that of a man and woman sharing adoration and desire for one another.

"At this moment, I only know that I am not turning my back on you because of you. I am doing it because of Him." She had said the first thing that came to mind. The only thing she could think of saying that would make him understand that her actions were based out of devotion to God, rather than repulsion of him or his actions.

"And if I didn't accept that, I wouldn't deserve to live," came the weak and broken answer, followed by a silent moment of hesitation before his steps started to retreat, intending to flee the situation before it became even more awkward. Already he was reciting a prayer in his head, ignoring his own lack of belief with the intent to beg for forgiveness on behalf of the petite woman who couldn't look at him now. _'Forgive me Father, for I have sinned...'_

"What if I don't accept it?" she asked, voice so quiet that he almost didn't hear her. He stepped back into the room, the curtain that separated the kitchen from the rest of the hall rustling slightly as the strands brushed against one another with the force of his retreat.

"Sister?" he questioned, keeping his voice level, suddenly terrified of where this conversation could be going. She was looking at him now, but still seemed to struggle with meeting his eyes, her gaze settled somewhere around his shoulder.

"What if I cannot accept that I am supposed to turn away from you, when all I want to do is run into your arms and stay there forever?" The moment the words were out of her mouth her eyes snapped back down to the floor. She cursed herself, hating that her desire for love was overpowering her rationality and her devotion to her vows. But as much as she wished to refute it, she had never felt more alive than she had in the second they were touching.

"Then I would tell you that I am here, whether it be now or in the future, and I will take any affection you decide to give me. But... but if you allow me to embrace you, I do not know if I will ever be able to let go." His answer was so sincere that she couldn't help but look up at him, scanning his features for any sign to contradict his words. She let out a shuddering sigh when she didn't find one, taking a trembling step towards him, then another, and another, until she was a mere inch from him. "Come to me my love," he whispered, raising his arms until he could bracket her shoulders with them, gently tugging her until she collapsed into his chest, burying her face in his jumper. Her tiny hands slid beneath his jacket, knotting themselves in the wool at his back as she clung to him. For his part, he stroked her shoulders, wanting nothing more than to stay in their position for hours.

"How can this feel so utterly right if it is something that we are not supposed to want?" she queried. He pulled her back slightly, kissing her forehead.

"Because it is right. This, right here, you in my arms, this is right. Even I know that God asks us to love one another, and says that love is not wrong. Love does not delight in evil just rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails." He said the words so tenderly that she had to fight back tears.

"That's Corinthians," she murmured, finally meeting his eyes the way she had wanted to for ages.

"Faith is different for all of us. For you it is belief in God, for me, it is understanding that there is someone who knows what we need even before we ourselves know and accept it. Someone that can bring us the one thing that we didn't know we desired more than anything else on the face of this earth. God does not condemn us for that, surely, when it is He who has given us the capacity to love one another like this?" Instead of responding she pressed herself to him again, breathing in his scent from his clothes, allowing herself to be encompassed by his body.

"Is that what this is? Love?" she asked.

"It is the only word I can give to how I feel for you," he whispered, hand coming up to cup her cheek and to turn her face up towards him, his gaze flicking from her eyes to her lips for a beat until he gently lowered his lips to hers, kissing her tenderly. It took her a moment before she responded in kind, timidly lacing her fingers together at his neck, allowing his hands to shift from her face down to her waist, cupping her hips and tugging her closer to him. He nibbled at her bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth to encourage her to let him kiss her the way he wanted, all tongue and teeth and unrestrained passion. She crumbled under the onslaught, a moan slipping from the back of her throat as he took a step backward, lifting her up and away from him until he could deposit her on the counter, quickly sliding between her thighs.

She couldn't help but whimper, feeling his fingers trailing under her neck, unclasping the fabric that covered her head and yanking it off the minute he was able, the cap from beneath the wimple following, his fingers slipping into her hair, tilting her head slightly more to the left and back, his lips trailing down her neck, biting at her pulse point where here heartbeat could be felt beneath her skin.

"Doctor!" she gasped, unable to restrain herself as his hands again moved to her hips, sliding her to the edge of the counter and as he began to thrust against her, layers of fabric between them dulling the friction but not enough that she couldn't feel him. His masculine form was heavy against her petite body, his manhood turgid beneath his trousers and pressing into the space between her thighs with reckless abandon. His arm was wrapped about her waist now, holding her to him as he drove his hips against hers, pulling guttural noises from her with ease, his hot breath panting against her neck. She grasped his shoulders, attempting to grind her hips against him faster, harder, to gain more movement between her legs, not knowing what the result would be, but wanting the contact more than she wanted to breathe in that moment.

"Oh Shelagh, yes," he grunted.

XxX

She came awake slowly, the sound of her given name still ringing in the back of her mind, her thoughts clouded and filled with the feeling of another body against hers. She couldn't help the slight whimper that escaped her, her hips pressing further into the mattress beneath her, her hand caught in the space between her thighs, her fingers wet and moving of their own volition.

"Oh," she gasped quietly, fingers finally pressing where she wanted them most, her body rutting against her hand as she felt her abdomen tighten, muscles seizing before a shockwave shot through her. Her hips bucked, shoving firmly against her fingers as they stopped moving, the wetness increasing between her thighs and sliding down onto her palm, stinging at the cut that marred her flesh. She winced, pulling her hand away, trying to shove her nightdress down as she went, shame immediately crashing over her.

She had just... had she really just...

Grabbing a towel she hastily scrubbed the fluid from her fingers, throwing it in the corner of the room the second she felt she had removed the majority. She didn't bother to get her glasses; ignoring the fact that her cap had come off during the night, her hair now a mess of blonde waves around her face as she dropped off the edge of the bed and fell to her knees, closing her eyes tightly against the tears that were building.

"Almighty God, long-suffering and of great goodness; I confess to you, I confess with my whole heart, my neglect and forgetfulness of your commandments. My wrong doing, thinking, and speaking; the hurts I have done to others, and the good I have left undone. O God, forgive me, for I have sinned against you; and raise me to newness of life; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen." The words rushed out of her while she fought against the urge to cry. Eventually, however, she could not control her emotions any longer. She sobbed, dropping from her kneeling position next to her bed and crumbling to the floor, tears falling to the wood beneath her with abandon. "Please, tell me what I should do," she begged the silence of the room. "Tell me how I am to live, to serve You, to continue in Your works when all I want is to be with him instead," she howled, voice cracking as she struggled to breathe. She curled on her side, dragging in ragged breaths as she clutched her traitorous hand to her chest.

Sister Julienne found her like that ten minutes later.

"My dear Sister, whatever is the matter?" the older woman asked, a look of alarm crossing her features as she found the younger woman on the floor.

"I'm sorry Sister, I just... I just..." Sister Bernadette hiccoughed, trying to sit up, her chest tight from crying and the emotions that swirled within her. She winced, pressing her palm to the floor and reopening the cut.

"Goodness, you're injured!" Sister Julienne rushed, tugging Sister Bernadette's hand towards her. "It doesn't look too bad. I'll fetch you a bandage. Will you be all right while I'm gone?" The question was posed with such motherly concern that Sister Bernadette felt herself tear up again.

"Yes. I'm sorry. It... it has been a long few days," the younger woman explained. She wasn't ready to speak with Sister Julienne about what was truly plaguing her. Not ready to admit that her heart felt as if it was being torn in two – one half of her being trying to remain tied with her bond to her religious vows while the other desired nothing more than to run to the man who haunted her dreams and her desires.

"Of course. I'll be back as quickly as I can."

Sister Bernadette managed to get herself back onto the edge of the mattress, hanging her head in shame as she deftly grabbed for her cap, shaking hands shoving her hair back beneath the fabric, attempting to put herself back in the headspace she needed for talking with Sister Julienne.

The events of the Fete had been but a mere few days before, and yet she couldn't shake the emotions they garnered in her. Couldn't forget the feeling of the doctor's lips on the pads of her fingers, of the way her heart jumped into her throat as she had yanked her hand away, turning away from him until he fled the room. Her subconscious demanded that she deal with the feelings that bubbled just beneath the surface, forcing her dreams to become twisted with her worldly desires until she crumbled beneath their weight. She shook her head, trying to force herself to forget the images that her mind had conjured; the way she imagined his voice would sound, broken with passion as he said her given name. It wouldn't do to dwell on something that had never happened – something that could never happen, no matter how much she felt herself wanting it more and more with each passing day.

"There now, let's see to your hand," Sister Julienne said, bustling back into the room with a worried look, her eyes passing over Sister Bernadette in order to assess if the younger woman had regained her composure. She took the proffered hand, hastily placing some salve on the abrasion before wrapping it deftly and with practiced ease. "Are you well Sister? I've been asked to attend a meeting at the Mother House, but if you are unwell I can ask Sister Evangelina to attend to the task I had for you."

"I'm all right Sister Julienne, I promise. Please do not feel the need to change your plans because of me. What is it that you require of me?"

"I promised Doctor Turner that I would accompany him in hopes of attaining an x-ray van to help examine patients for potential tuberculosis but as I am required in Chichester I would hope that you would be able to go with him in my stead."

"Of course Sister," Sister Bernadette replied, feeling dizzy at the prospect.

"Thank you. He should be here at 10. I shall leave you to get ready for prayer." With that, Sister Julienne left the room, her habit sweeping through the doorway as she gently shut the world out of Sister Bernadette's room for a few more moments.

She had hoped that she would manage a few more days without seeing him – especially with the content of her dreams still fresh in her mind. Swallowing, Sister Bernadette stood, crossing the floor to don her habit. She would be as strong as she could in her resolve to keep their relationship strictly professional, regardless of the tightness in her chest it caused.

If her heart seized at his breathless expulsion of 'Sister Bernadette' when he saw her coming down the steps, she didn't let it show. Instead, she pressed her fingers into the cut on her palm as he closed the passenger door of the car, dashing around to his own side. The pain would remind her to keep her emotions in check. It would remind her of the agony she could cause to others, to herself, to God, if she acted on her feelings. If the pleasure she got from releasing the pressure taunted her towards the thoughts of love, she remained firmly in denial.


End file.
